Page:Braddon--The Trail of the Serpent.djvu/118

114 Raymond Marolles, with an ease of manner all his own passes his arm through that of the young man, and leads him out into the passage.

"I have heard, Monsieur Moucée, that you possess a talent for mimicry which is of a very superior order. Are you willing to assist with this talent in a little farce I am preparing for the amusement of a lady? If so you will have a claim (which I shall not forget) on my gratitude and on my purse."

This last word makes Paul Moucée prick up his ears. Poor fellow! his last coin has gone for the half-ounce of tobacco he has just consumed. He expresses himself only too happy to obey the commands of monsieur.

Monsieur suggests that they shall repair to an adjoining café, at which they can have half-an-hour's quiet conversation. They do so; and at the end of the half hour, Monsieur Marolles parts with Paul Moucée at the door of this café. As they separate Raymond looks at his watch—"Half-past eleven; all goes better than I could have even hoped. This man will do very well for our friend Elvino, and the lady shall have ocular demonstration. Now for the rest of my work; and to-night, my proud and beautiful heiress, for you."

As the clocks strike ten that night, a hackney-coach stops close to the entrance of the Bois de Boulogne; and as the coachman checks his horse, a gentleman emerges from the gloom, and goes up to the door of the coach, which he opens before the driver can dismount. This gentleman is Monsieur Raymond Marolles, and Valerie de Lancy is seated in the coach.

"Punctual, madame!" he says. "Ah, in the smallest matters you are superior to your sex. May I request you to step out and walk with me for some little distance?"

The lady, who is thickly veiled, only bows her head in reply; but she is by his side in a moment. He gives the coachman some directions, and the man drives off a few paces; he then offers his arm to Valerie.

"Nay, monsieur," she says, in a cold, hard voice, "I can follow you, or I can walk by your side. I had rather not take your arm."

Perhaps it is as well for this man's schemes that it is too dark for his companion to see the smile that lifts his black moustache, or the glitter in his blue eyes. He is something of a physiologist as well as a mathematician, this man; and he can tell what she has suffered since last night by the change in her voice alone. It has a dull and monotonous sound, and the tone seems to have gone out of it for ever. If the dead could speak, they might speak thus.

"This way, then, madame," he says. "My first object is to convince you of the treachery of the man for whom you have